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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272542">So We Begin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/static_abyss/pseuds/static_abyss'>static_abyss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Communication, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Past Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:02:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/static_abyss/pseuds/static_abyss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a nagging feeling at the back of Yusuf's head that tells him there's more to Nicolo than the years have taught him. That Yusuf hasn't even begun to scratch the surface of what multitudes exist in him. But sitting by the river, bathed in moonlight, it feels important to ask, to find where their edges meet. Whether this thing between them is going somewhere.</p><p>Or, a conversation about the past, the present, and the future.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fic In A Box</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>So We Begin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/gifts">merle_p</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hope you enjoy this fic, merle_p. It was my pleasure writing this piece 😊</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yusuf brings it up first because it's worse not knowing. The ache in his chest reeks of love and devotion and Nicolo in front of him seems untouchable. They're sitting by the edge of a river in an uncharted land, a vast expanse of greenery around them. Yusuf's maps have stopped being useful this far North but they persist because there's nowhere else to go. Their families have long since been lost to war or famine or time and Yusuf is tired of existing in between his old world and his new one.</p><p>He wants to live. </p><p>Even before he became aware of why the merchant ships carried steel, he knew he wasn't made for death or the stab of metal against skin. Like a child hides from monsters so Yusuf hid from the truth of the scimitar. But he's the son of a risk-taking adventurer and aside from his mother's curly hair and warm laughter, he inherited her freedom. In Yusuf lived, and continues to live, a deep desire to see the world, to know how things work, how other people live. He wants to consume knowledge, let it fill him until he knows everything. It's why he left home.</p><p>And he never made it back.</p><p>But that's how things go sometimes.</p><p>Now, he sits on bright green grass with a forest at his back and Nicolo just in front of him. They haven't made it far enough up North to necessitate thicker clothing but Yusuf can feel the promise of biting cold in the early morning wind that flows from the river. They'll have to stop soon to find a town where they can buy warmer clothes. Where they'll have to avoid questions about why they're traveling together, why Yusuf's skin is so dark compared to Nicolo's, why Yusuf thinks he can come so far North and fit in. Or worse still, they'll wonder whether Nicolo needs help with the ruffian, the prisoner, the savage. </p><p>He hates thinking these things, hates how it stings to know that the world is against him and Nicolo in more ways than one. They've overcome so many roadblocks already to get to this fragile thing between them. So many odds stacked against them, different backgrounds, different families, different feelings towards where each of them came from. But Yusuf prefers to put these thoughts aside. It's the only way forward, after all. </p><p>He turns back to Nicolo at the edge of the river, thinks him distant and beautiful. They had their first night together just a week ago, quiet muffled sounds lost to the darkness of a wooden cottage. He wonders if Nicolo is thinking about it too, about the way they fit under each other's hands and how alive they are together. That they waited so long to finally touch each other fills Yusuf with a sense of deep sadness, but it was necessary given how they met. </p><p>He sighs and feels Nicolo shift next to him. He's overly aware of Nicolo's eyes on him, so Yusuf knows when it's safe to look. </p><p>In the sunlight, Nicolo's hair is so light, it could be mistaken for blond, and this small piece of information sets off a deep longing in Yusuf's chest. He feels young and out of his depth, like the small boy who fumbled his way through his first kiss all those years ago, shaking and full of terror. There's a nagging feeling at the back of his head that tells him there's more to Nicolo than the years have taught Yusuf. That he hasn't even begun to scratch the surface of what multitudes exist in Nicolo, that despite their years together, Yusuf doesn't stand a chance in the face of all that mystery.</p><p>He asks because they're sitting by a river and it's just them. There are no townspeople to make things awkward. No women flirting with Nicolo. Just the two of them in their traveling clothing, both of them pretending they aren't thinking about each other's hands and mouths. </p><p>"Tell me about your boyfriends, Nicolo," Yusuf says.</p><p>The silence that meets him makes Yusuf turn so that he can see Nicolo's eyes. They're greenish blue like the seas in the afternoon sun. At times, Yusuf has seen them be a bright blue that rivals the sky. But he likes them best this way, honest and open. </p><p>"I never had any boyfriends," Nicolo says.</p><p>"Me neither," Yusuf says.</p><p>When he was a young boy, Yusuf's father used to take him out to watch the merchant ships. They'd spend hours by the docks, watching the people, the mixtures of colors from all the spices, the dyes. The smell of salt mixing with humanity itself. All of it filling Yusuf with longing for more, even as he wished to remain home. Because Yusuf had his mother's freedom, but he also had his father's deep sense of love for his birthplace, for his people, for the life that existed in everything. It's why every death hurts, why each stab of metal into skin lives in Yusuf's memories and in his heart. He was never meant for death. </p><p>He was meant for observing, to jot down the words that come to him as he watches the world, as he watches Nicolo. Beautiful is obvious but so is good and kind. Unwavering. Harsh. Both more unforgiving but true nonetheless. Yusuf knows enough about Nicolo now to know the anger that lives underneath his skin, that deep sense of betrayal that hasn't left him since he realized that religions are manmade.</p><p>Nicolo would be his first boyfriend but not his first kiss. Not even his first in bed. But he's first where it matters most. Here. Now. </p><p>"Tell me about your girlfriends," Yusuf says. </p><p>Nicolo smiles, a small sweet thing that Yusuf tries to memorize. He wants to know everything, which is why he doesn't even feel the sting of the blade that slices through his neck from behind.   </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Yusuf was reborn for the first time, he came back as if from a dream. One moment he wasn't, and then he was, and life continued in a cloud of blood and carnage. </p><p>The last time, he woke to Nicolo's hair in his mouth, their bodies so close together, they were embracing. All of the times before this moment, they've died together or almost together, never long enough to miss each other. This time is the first that Yusuf's died alone, that he's stayed dead for almost ten minutes. But he doesn't know this until much later.</p><p>When he comes to, it's to Nicolo's stony expression, a smear of blood on the left side of his face. He's breathing hard through his nose, his body coiled tight with tension. When their eyes meet, there's a moment where Yusuf can see the cracks in the unbreakable armor, just a twitch of Nicolo's face that lets Yusuf know he's hiding more underneath that blank expression. </p><p><em>Tell me</em>, Yusuf wants to say and finds that he can't.</p><p>He reaches up to his neck, feels the reknitting tendons, and understands what happened in a moment of unexpected clarity. He hisses through the pain and remembers that blades and skin don't go together.</p><p>"Stay down a moment, Yusuf," Nicolo says, his voice so quiet, Yusuf goes still in order to hear him. "You're hurt."</p><p>"It's only a scratch," Yusuf says, hears the hiss of air and the mumbled words.</p><p>It strikes him as funny that he might be without a voice for eternity, or for however long he may have. He thinks it's forever. The dreams he's had ever since he finally allowed himself to think "immortal" make him think this is forever. </p><p>Andromache of Scythia. </p><p>Quynh.</p><p>Snatches of visions of two women walking the desert together, of them crossing the sea, heading forever northward. Heading where Nicolo and Yusuf have been heading for the past year. Yusuf dreams of them and draws them, sketches their features into the sheets he's picked up here and there. He knows they're meant to find each other, the when and the how are unimportant. The same way the reasonings for why it's Nicolo for him are unimportant. All that matters is that it's Nicolo.</p><p>Forever. </p><p>There's no other explanation for why it feels so right being in his arms. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Kiss me," Yusuf says and he's glad to hear his voice come out strong and sure. </p><p>Nicolo stops washing his hands in the river. The sun has finally set and it's impossible to tell where the bodies of the thieves who attacked them were. There's just the moonlight and the shadows of the trees on the river's edge. Nicolo is covered in shadows, his face turned away from Yusuf. </p><p>"Don't kiss me, then," Yusuf says when the silence drags on too long. "But come here. I want to see you."</p><p>"Why?" Nicolo asks.</p><p>Yusuf thinks of his mother's vibrant laughter and the way his father watched her. How he always looked for her eyes because he said that her eyes never lied. Yusuf thinks of the first boy he kissed and the way his eyes grew wide, the sharp pain of a punch as it landed on Yusuf's cheekbone. He thinks of that first time aboard a ship, with a man from the chef's quarters, the hard lines of his muscles, and the ache all over Yusuf's body when he woke the next morning. He thinks of all the pieces of himself that Nicolo doesn't have, of the things Yusuf wants to share with him.</p><p><em>How complex the range of love</em>, Yusuf thinks as he stares at Nicolo in the moonlight. </p><p>The love his parents had for each other was beautiful and pure, so unlike the passions that gripped Yusuf throughout his life. So unlike the sudden want that burns to life as he stares at Nicolo, as he thinks of their first time together, of how it compares to Yusuf's other firsts. All of it a jumble of half-forgotten memories. He's not sure anymore whether all the things he remembers are real. Whether they're not just an attempt at holding onto something of his past. Whether memory is just a fickle inconsistent thing. </p><p>"Tell me about your first kiss," Yusuf says. "And I'll tell you about the last kiss that really mattered to me. And if we make it out of that conversation alive, maybe I'll tell you why I want to see you in the moonlight."</p><p>Nicolo turns away but Yusuf can hear the hint of his smile in his voice. "If you insist," he says.</p><p>"I do," Yusuf answers.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"There was a man," Nicolo starts.</p><p>He's sitting next to Yusuf now, their legs stretched out before them, their arms only a minuscule distance from each other. There's treebark digging into Yusuf's back, the hard scrape of twigs underneath him, and the chill of the night. Nicolo is so close beside him and they have all the time in the world. </p><p>"Was he handsome?" Yusuf asks, turning to smile wide at Nicolo.</p><p>He's met with silence and Nicolo's heavy stare. </p><p>"Yes," Nicolo says. "He was."</p><p>They look at each other a moment, letting the darkness and distance register between them. There's the usual space that comes from their being friendly but not close. A chasm that hits Yusuf close to heart. He feels unmoored in the darkness as he watches Nicolo's assessing glance. Yusuf feels the distance between them growing and he yearns for Nicolo beneath his hands. Because when Yusuf kissed him, swallowed him down, Nicolo was his.</p><p>There are things people do that tie them inevitably together, people in Yusuf's life that he'll never forget. And now, he and Nicolo are tied together. For better or for worse, they are one in their immortal life so they must learn to accept everything about each other.  </p><p>"Did you enjoy your first kiss?" Yusuf asks.</p><p>Nicolo shrugs. "Did you?"</p><p>Yusuf thinks of all the different shades of brown, of wide eyes in the shade of fruit trees, chapped lips, and trembling hands. How young he'd been back then. How things change. </p><p>"I promised you the last kiss that mattered to me," Yusuf says. "You promised me your first kiss."</p><p>Nicolo grins. "Is that what I promised?"</p><p>Yusuf laughs delightedly. "If I had asked, would you have given it to me? If you could, that is."</p><p>Nicolo says nothing but his eyes hold sadness in them even as he smiles. "The first man I kissed was both my death sentence and my salvation," he says. "And I don't think he knew it."</p><p>In the distance, an owl hoots and Yusuf turns to the sound. He can just make out the outline of a wingspan against the night sky, but he blinks and it's gone. He's left staring at the brightness of the stars, more alive here than in the larger cities. It soothes him to think that his mother and father saw the same stars. That wherever they are, the women he sees in his dreams also watch the same skies. That whatever may happen with him and Nicolo, they too will always be tied by the night. </p><p>"If I had been your first kiss, I would have done my best to make it good," Yusuf says. </p><p>"It was good," Nicolo says, quietly. "My first kiss."</p><p>Yusuf feels the smile tugging at his lips. "I'm glad," he says. "My first kiss was terrible."</p><p>He thinks of bruises and aches that ran too deep for a boy of fourteen. Of the fear that once ran through him, how different it was from the surety of his desire for the sailor. How much those two people affected him and how unlike Nicolo they were. </p><p>"I think I was in love with my first kiss," Yusuf says. "But I was a boy and didn't know what that meant."</p><p>Nicolo shifts next to him, his hand brushing against Yusuf's calf. There's another shift and Yusuf is thinking of that night, a week ago, when Nicolo kissed him and gave him everything. How warm it was despite the weather up North, how hard and masculine Nicolo felt on top of Yusuf. Everything about him so much more open than the silent man he becomes in the mornings. </p><p>It's baffling comparing the two, Nicolo in Yusuf's hands and Nicolo walking by his side. The closest the two have come is when Yusuf woke to Nicolo's face covered in blood, when one of them died and the other didn't. </p><p>"Nicolo," Yusuf says, starting to work something out but not yet knowing what it is.</p><p>"Me too," Nicolo interrupts. </p><p>Yusuf raises an eyebrow and Nicolo smiles, something sweet and painfully honest. </p><p>"You too what?" Yusuf asks, but he knows even before Nicolo answers.</p><p>"I was in love with my first kiss."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Yusuf promised he'd give Nicolo the story of the last kiss that mattered, the sailor aboard the merchant ship when Yusuf was twenty-three. When the blue sky and the storm-tossed sea called to the hunger in his heart. He wanted the entire world, wanted to consume everything around him until it filled him and made him new. He was more than an adventurer. He was a scholar, a thing wilder and more dangerous. On top of that, he was a poet and an artist. </p><p>So, Yusuf thinks, he was doomed from the start. </p><p>"He was beautiful," Yusuf says, lost in thoughts of strong, sun-kissed arms and laughing eyes. "He knew how to laugh, so you see why we were meant to be."</p><p>Nicolo snorts and Yusuf grins wider, throws his head back, and lets the wind wash over him. He imagines the chill comes from the sea at night, that he can smell the tang of salt in the air and men hard at work. It was so easy to catch the eyes of the sailor, to follow him down to the kitchen, to joke and tease until his intentions were clear. Until it was Yusuf backed against the wooden planks, horribly lost and still wanting everything. </p><p>He doesn't know how to tell Nicolo that those times with those other people never felt quite right. That there was aways the underlying fear that he was betraying himself by giving in only halfway. Never in love but wanting to be. That though it was good for a moment, in the end, Yusuf was always left alone. That an ache ran deep in his bones because he was missing something and didn't now what it was.</p><p>Nicolo is different. Nicolo makes Yusuf want to hold on tighter, to pray harder, forever grateful that the world decided that this man was for him. Nicolo is it in more ways than one, even if he doesn't feel the same way.</p><p>"Did you love him?" Nicolo asks. </p><p>It takes too long for Yusuf to remember he's talking about the sailor. But they <em>are</em> talking about the sailor, about their individual past, so it's safe for Yusuf to be honest. </p><p>"I wouldn't be telling you about him, if I hadn't loved him," he says. </p><p>He wouldn't be thinking so much about Nicolo, if he didn't love him. </p><p>"And this kiss that mattered," Nicolo says. "What was it like?"</p><p>Yusuf closes his eyes, thinks of Nicolo's mouth on his. "It was like waking up," he says. "Only I didn't know I was asleep so I didn't know how much brighter the real world was, how it all fit together. It was hard and demanding and it woke something in me that was probably always there. I came alive and no matter how many times I've died since then, I am still alive."</p><p>He inhales, lets the cold night seep into his bones as he thinks of Nicolo's kisses. They are everything he said and more, and their memory leaves him almost gasping for breath. He wants to drive out that painful want that burns through him and makes it hard to stay still. They're talking of their pasts, not of their future. It isn't fair that Yusuf press if Nicolo isn't ready. They both have too much respect for the other to let that happen. </p><p>A kiss changes nothing, after all. </p><p>"You know something, Yusuf," Nicolo says. "That isn't quite how I remember our first kiss."</p><p>It takes too long for Yusuf to understand. He says, "what do you mean," sees the smile falter on Nicolo's face, and knows it's too late. By the time he understands that he, Yusuf, was Nicolo's first kiss, Nicolo's turned back to the river. He says nothing as Yusuf watches him, lets his eyes bore into the side of Nicolo's face, all of him so focused now that he knows. </p><p>"You were talking about me," Yusuf says in awe.</p><p>"And you were talking about someone else," Nicolo answers. </p><p>He refuses to look at Yusuf and the jealousy is so painfully obvious on his face that Yusuf can say nothing. He doesn't know how he's meant to react to getting what he's been longing for for months. For years almost. All of him so focused on Nicolo, he almost wept when Nicolo first touched him with intent. </p><p>It's madness to think that Nicolo feels the same way, that Yusuf was the first to kiss him. Maybe not the first to touch him. Maybe not even the first to love him. But the first to kiss him, the first to feel Nicolo give in his arms as they leaned against the cottage door. The first to feel the sure press of lips that was Nicolo going for what he wanted.</p><p>At that last memory, a thought occurs to Yusuf as he looks at Nicolo, as Nicolo looks at the river and the darkness. He said he'd been in love with his first kiss, and now that Yusuf is thinking about it, he suddenly needs to hear it again. He needs to confirm for himself that Nicolo loves him, that he means to walk this path with Yusuf, that the blasted stars can go out for all he cares. They have no need of the night sky if Nicolo wants to stay at Yusuf's side. </p><p>"You said you loved me," Yusuf says now, wants Nicolo's agreement so badly, he's almost shaking. </p><p>Nicolo looks at him, the blank expression on his face catching Yusuf off guard. He can see it for what it is now, a means of protection from pain. It hurts to know that Yusuf's the cause, that he might be someone Nicolo has to guard against. But that too is love. An easy way to hurt, and forgive, and thrive, and Yusuf wants everything Nicolo's willing to give him. </p><p>"I thought you had died," Nicolo says. </p><p>Yusuf doesn't need him to say more. He imagines Nicolo leaving him all alone in this new world and the sharp stab of pain is expected because that is also love. It's this fragile thing between them, all the intricacies of not knowing the other person but wanting to. It's Nicolo's face above Yusuf's when he thought Yusuf was gone. It's the space between them as they walk during the day and the shortening distance between their fingers as they sit by the river. It's Yusuf's thumping heart and Nicolo's heavy stare. </p><p>"I'm not dead," Yusuf says. "And neither are you."</p><p>"No," Nicolo says. "But you were my first kiss and I am not the kiss that mattered to you most."</p><p>There's no sadness in Nicolo's voice, nothing in the way he looks at Yusuf. </p><p><em>Let me in</em>, Yusuf wants to say. </p><p>All Yusuf wants is to have Nicolo tell him the truth, to trust him enough to show Yusuf all the easily broken pieces within him. He wants Nicolo to want to know Yusuf as much as Yusuf wants to know him, to ask the questions that hurt, to be angry, and brave, and human.</p><p>But perhaps, Yusuf thinks as he stares into Nicolo's blue eyes, there's something to be said for silence. Perhaps, just once, Yusuf can be quiet, can show Nicolo what he wants. Perhaps, Yusuf thinks, a kiss is worth more than what he originally thought. </p><p>"Kiss me," Yusuf says. "Or let me kiss you."</p><p>"Why?" Nicolo asks.</p><p>Yusuf feels the smile tugging at his lips, sees the beginning of Nicolo's answering smile, and says, almost helplessly, "Because we are both fools who have been denying ourselves for far too long."</p><p>Nicolo's grin is brilliant in the moonlight, his eyes softening as he looks at Yusuf, and when Yusuf leans in, Nicolo's there to meet him halfway.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The first time Nicolo kissed Yusuf, he made him wait until Yusuf couldn't stand it. Until Yusuf was trembling, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. There was the wooden cottage and the far-off sounds of the forest. And in the enclosed space of that single-room home, Yusuf waited until he couldn't stand it. Until the heat from Nicolo's body seeped into every part of himself. Until, if he didn't kiss Nicolo, he might die. </p><p>Only then did Nicolo lean forward and kiss him. Tentative and soft. Exploratory. </p><p>They kissed once and then again. And again. And again. Until all Yusuf knew was the shape of Nicolo's mouth and the quiet sounds he made when he was overwhelmed. </p><p>Their second kiss is slower than their first, something sweet under the night sky. It's Yusuf's hands on Nicolo's face and his trembling fingers. It's the way the space between them disappears and the way Yusuf lays back down in the grass. There's the cold at Yusuf's back as he slides his fingers into Nicolo's hair. </p><p>"I love you," would be so easy to say because Yusuf means it here more than he's meant it anywhere else. But there's no need for words at the moment, no room for dreams of women up North, or place for fear of any kind. And still, even as Yusuf thinks this, he remembers the pain in Nicolo's eyes when Yusuf woke from death yet again. He thinks of losing Nicolo and feels the same terror settle at the bottom of his stomach.</p><p>And this too must be part of love, Yusuf thinks as they break apart, because he is in love. </p><p>Completely. </p><p>Forever. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Kiss me," Nicolo says. </p><p>And as the sun breaks across the sky, Yusuf does just that.</p>
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